


Building the Lie

by randi2204



Series: Honeymoon Trail [2]
Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra and Chris pay a visit to a tailor to implement Ezra's plan.  Surprises for Chris follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building the Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These boys belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy.

Chris had no idea how he’d gotten talked into Ezra’s scheme in the first place, much less why he’d agreed to _this_ part of it.

 

He’d balked when he’d realized that Ezra was going to a tailor – and the likely reason _why_ – and Ezra had grabbed hold of his arm to keep him from heading back to the hotel.  “Come along, Mister Larabee,” he’d said, as if he’d been anticipating this… and he probably had, too, damn him.  “Let’s not make a scene.”

 

He’d tried to pull away, but the wound he’d taken – seared over now but still healing, and too damned painful from the ride to this town to make getting physical worth it – prevented his escape.   “Ezra…”

 

Ezra leaned close and that veneer of politeness dropped away.  “You agreed, Mister Larabee,” he said, voice low and tense.  “You agreed that the rumor of your nuptials would lure the deplorable Miz Gaines out of hiding.  In order to make that rumor sound like truth, you must accompany me, as it is my _sister_ you will wed… when she deigns to show herself.”  He flashed Chris a tight grin, all gold tooth and no humor.  “And she cannot show herself until she is properly clad.”

 

Still Chris had hesitated, looking from Ezra to the dressmaker’s shop.

 

“Do you or do you not want to find Miz Gaines?” Ezra asked. 

 

There was a hint of challenge in his words, enough to make Chris glare at him, try to intimidate him into looking away.  When Ezra wouldn’t, kept holding his gaze, one eyebrow raised, Chris finally gritted out, “Yes, damn you.”

 

“Well then.”  Ezra let go of his arm, gestured toward the dressmaker’s.  “You know what you have to do.”

 

Which was how he found himself surrounded by frippery and dressmaker dummies, while Ezra and the tailor discussed fabric and patterns.  Ezra had introduced him as his sister’s fiancé, and that – having an outsider know him that way – quite suddenly brought home to him that this was _real_ , that he had agreed to stage a wedding – which he knew wasn’t the same as a _marriage,_ but in his mind, it was so firmly linked with the happiness he’d found with Sarah that they were damn near impossible to separate – with _Ezra_ as his bride.

 

There were _reasons_ ; Ezra had laid them all out plain when he’d first come up with this insanity, and Chris understood them, recognized the sense of them before Ezra had even spoken them aloud.  The woman he was to marry had to be someone who was able to take care of herself should Ella come after her.  She had to know the risks and be willing to take them…

 

And that was where Chris stumbled, because he simply couldn’t imagine why _Ezra_ would be willing to take this risk, and, just as importantly, why he was willing to pretend to be a woman to do so.

 

_Not just willing_ , he reflected, glancing out the corner of his eye at Ezra.  Not only had Ezra come up with the idea of the sham wedding, he had offered himself in the guise of his sister, and stood by his plan even when the others voiced their doubts.  And doubts they had.

 

But Chris hadn’t.  He hadn’t said a word against Ezra’s plan, had seen through the torrent of Ezra’s words a glimpse of how it might work.  Ella had found him, had killed his happiness when she’d had Sarah and Adam killed.  There was no doubt that she would do the same – or try – when she heard he’d married again.

 

And he didn’t question that it would be sooner rather than later, given how she’d declared herself in that damned letter.

 

Just the thought of that woman using _his_ name made his stomach turn, filled him with a fury that burned cold in his chest. 

 

“Mister Larabee?”

 

Ezra’s call of his name made him start.  He turned around, saw Ezra gesture at him to come closer.  Reluctantly, he did so and found that Ezra held a pattern book.

 

“I believe this pattern will suit my dear sister,” Ezra said, tapping at one of the pictures in the book.   “However, knowing my sister and her contrary ways… well, she’ll object, particularly if she thinks you might not find her absolutely stunning.  Does this meet with your approval?”

 

Chris gave Ezra a hard look, but Ezra continued to smile pleasantly, letting it roll off him.  With a sigh, he gave the pattern a cursory glance, then a closer one.  It was nothing like the dress they’d forced Ezra into that time with Wickes; it was an altogether better dress for him, one that wouldn’t make his shoulders look so wide, that would make the flat, male lines of his body appear slightly more feminine.  “Yeah,” he said slowly.  “Yeah, that’ll look good.”

 

The tailor beamed at them both, apparently unconcerned that two men were picking out a dress for an absent woman.  “Very good, sirs,” he said, and plucked a pencil from behind his ear to scribble on a scrap of paper.  “This will be the sum to have it ready by the date you specified,” he added, handing the paper to Ezra. “I’ll go retrieve some bolts of fabric that might be suitable for you to choose from.”  With that, he disappeared behind a curtain, presumably in a storeroom.

 

“How much?” Chris asked.  He had the money that Hopewell had paid Stutz – the blood money, quite literally, since some of it still bore faint traces of Ezra’s blood, despite them trying to soak it out.  He held it because he was certain that if he let Ezra hold it, it wouldn’t have made it any further than the nearest gambling table. __

 

“Considering how soon we want it to be ready… an exorbitant amount,” Ezra replied, tucking the paper into the pocket of his vest.

 

Chris frowned.  The money was meant to cover their journey, to make it appear that Chris was trying to avoid Ella and keep his new bride safe.  It needed to cover train tickets and hotel rooms, not to mention the preacher Ezra had notified in the town where they would catch the train…

 

_I never spent so much on Sarah in our wedding,_ he thought, and his chest tightened.  _Why am I spendin’ all this money on_ Ezra _, when he’s just playin’ at this…and it ain’t even like he’s a real woman_ …

 

Ezra must have read the thoughts crossing his face, for he shot a look at the curtain, then licked his lips and leaned close.  “You buy me the dress,” he whispered, warm breath washing over Chris’s ear, “and I’ll be more woman than a man like you can stand.”

 

Chris jerked away from Ezra and simply stared at him.  Before he could do more than open his mouth, the tailor entered the shop again, arms full of cloth, and Ezra returned to doing business as if nothing had happened.

 

But something _had_.  Ezra had changed… damn near everything Chris thought he understood.  Maybe Ezra _did_ have a reason for doing this, something beyond fellow feeling, beyond _friendship_ , though that word never passed his lips.

 

_And do I even_ want…

 

“Mister Larabee…”

 

He focused on Ezra again.  Sever al of the bolts that the tailor had brought out had apparently been rejected; they sat in a heap on the far side of the counter.  Ezra held up a length of cloth – no, two lengths, one a soft gold brocade, the other a shimmery green.

 

“Which color would you favor my sister in?”

 

Chris studied the fabric and felt his throat close.  Not because either was a shade that Sarah had ever worn, but because… because in that instant, he could _see_ Ezra in a dress, see them pretending to be wed, see them in a hotel room in Abilene or Ellsworth or St. Louis…

 

See them doin’ things in that hotel room, like they really _were_ newly wed and couldn’t keep their hands off each other, himself half in, half out of his best clothes, Ezra in that dress, skirts all rucked up…

 

Or even out of the dress.

 

He swallowed, lifted his eyes to Ezra’s.  “The green,” he replied, voice thick.  “I think y-your sister’d look real fine in the green.”

 

Ezra smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt that appeared at both [fic_promptly](http://fic_promptly.dreamwidth.org) and [mag7daybook](http://mag7daybook.dreamwidth.org) on Dreamwidth. The prompt was: Author’s choice, author’s choice, “You buy me the dress, I'll be more woman than a man like you can stand.” - Hedwig & the Angry Inch


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